CHAPTER I

Mort

Episode II — Mother

I was killing my mother from the moment I was in her womb. I couldn’t coexist with kradom — the horrid drug of this world. She was getting stoned and the dose in the syringe was enough for two hours. This drug left her with no family and friends. It took everything from her and had driven her to the street to sell the only thing she had left to make enough money to put a needle in her vein. It gave her what she craved for — nothingness, unfeeling emptiness.

That was it. The last dope. She was dying. This drug was the reason and the means to make her mind a desert and melt under that burning sun her decaying reasoning and abused body. Everything was buried under a thick layer of dry, warm, and fatal sand.

I was just a speck of life in her long-suffering body, but I remember her pain. I shared her agony. A drug dream sharply escalated to sickening trembling as stomach cramps were twisting her body. Violently clattering teeth threatened to crash into dust. It was worse than cold turkey if anything can be compared to the agony when the kradom stops. I could hear her moaning. It hunts me sometimes at night even now. I looked at her from outside (floating in a disembodied, incorporeal form above her). I needed to survive by all possible means and… save her, the person I loved. She was the one I’d chosen. If to save her meant to kill part of myself, I was ready to do so. I wanted to give her a second chance, one more shot at this ugly life.

She spent fifteen days in an intensive care unit, struggling to bring herself back to consciousness. I instilled in her that desire to get out of the torturing claws of death. We both learned what the pain was: multiple bones being broken at the same time, the crushing terrifying pain of your stomach being placed in a deep freezer and held there till the very point you cannot feel it anymore and at that exact second the hot burning oil poured right on it, numerous explosions blowing up your brain and causing your nose, ears, and teeth to bleed. This groin-squeezing shrieks of pain are for sure part of the reason I was born with so much hatred towards this world.

I exchanged not just a much bigger than a normal number of cells via the placenta with her; I shared part of my immortality. The tiny heart in me stopped beating, grew to the size of a fist and bifurcated, started to function abnormally so that both of them didn’t need to pump blood throughout the body. A different power was supplying oxygen and nutrients to the organs — I fed on the emotions and energy of the people around me. Both of my hearts are like Siamese twins, they can live together or can be separated and function independently. One controls effulgence-creation and the other causes distraction. They make the biggest organ in my body and until I have both — I’m destined to battle for every inch of my long suffered soul and pray that if Death would decide to kill me again — She’ll take the cruel one.

From the time of conception my intelligence controlled all processes in my mother’s body: every breath she took, every thought she had, and every move she made. When she was well enough I forced her to get up from the healing bed and in half-conscious delirium escape from the building. Despite it, the time she spent in the Healing Center was enough for the Chroniclers to learn about my existence in her body. I knew they would wait for nine months and grab my tiny body at the time of birth. I did my best to hide our tracks. She couldn’t explain her persecution mania. I made my mother fear for her life and change places and names.

But it was just a matter of time for THEM to find me.

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